Ghosts 'Round All Corners
by Shoelaceification
Summary: This was the moment where I had the gut-wrenching, gag-triggering realization that he moved on. But me, I was the dumb one who got left behind. "I hate you!", "I never loved you." So he hates me. So this is it. Im nothing, dead One-Shot!


**Author's note: I do not own Degrassi. Also, my style of writing is different than others. I repeat words and write that way to emphasize the feeling. Sorry, if you don't understand, but I like it this way. Suicidal thoughts and dark themes.**

There they were, on the bench that Eli and I used to laugh, kiss, and edit each others' papers on. This time though, I'm not there, because she's replaced me. In fact, she went as far as to act as me when she and Eli wanted to get over me.

There I was, so naïve and gullible, thinking that I still had a chance with him. I was just rounding the corner with a coffee when I spotted them there, specifically when Eli was screaming at Imogen. Stopping dead in my tracks, I listened in while swiftly hiding behind a shelf stocked up with plump, red and white roses. Peeking around, I saw Eli throwing his hands up in the air while she boldly stood her ground.

"I hate you!" he screamed.

"I never loved you." She whispered.

Earlier that day, Eli told me that the play was on a failed high school relationship. By the look in his eyes and the tone of his voice told me what I had suspected- it was about us. Sniffing sadly, I cowered behind the shelf even more, clutching the coffee, even though it was burning through the thin cardboard jacket and into my numb hand. But I didn't care. Nothing mattered now because I didn't matter. Who cared what happened to me?

So this was it. Eli actually hated me, hated me, hated me, hated me with the intensity of a thousand suns. I checked my watch, just to confirm it. On May 4th, at exactly 1:09 p.m., Eli Goldsworthy, the guy I had never stopped loving since he accepted me as his girlfriend, declared that he hated me, hated me, hated me. I couldn't get it out of my mind. This was the moment where I had the gut-wrenching, gag-triggering, pounding headache realization that he moved on. But me, I was the dumb one who got left behind. As if this hadn't happened three times before. Each time, it hurt. I'm thinking that it will forever hurt. First was Darcy, who left me for Kenya. There were better opportunities there. And my parents left me because they hated each other more than they loved me. And K.C.. he left me for somebody prettier and with more personality. Everybody, adding Eli onto the list, left me for something better. Maybe it was because I can't measure up; I'll never be good enough for anybody. Was I good enough to anybody?

Now he's convinced I never loved him. That new girl has him wrapped around her finger, and the sad thing is, nobody knows what their absence means to me. And because he has a different mid set, he'll never, ever know why I did it. There was a reason, one that he will never care to listen to. Tears brimmed at the edges of my eyes at the mere thought that I'll never get to explain myself or defend myself or get another chance. So that's it. That's the end. The fairytale ending for them, and not me. I'll never get my happy ending. No way. I'm practically dead. That's the end. The end. Finale. Over. No more. No more chances to me, the girl who, in my opinion, gives out second chances to people like party favors. My compassionate nature has gotten me nowhere, except stepped on and taken advantage of. I'm done in everybody's eyes including my own.

000000000000

"So what are we doing today?' Eli asks. Because Katie assigned me to interview Eli, I have to spend lots of time asking him questions. Every day, we met in this room, the projector room, with its depressing blue painted walls and cramped space. Before this, I debated whether or not I should show up to this place after all. Eli's presence made me crumble and my stomach flutter, and not in the good way. No offense, but he was the last thing I wanted to see.

There it is, he's smiling at me, no, smirking, no, frown. Memories of yesterday flooded my mind, and I was on the verge of tears. Feeling them prick the edges, I panic and start to silently hyperventilate. Why is he here? How is he here? He hates me so much he screamed it in public. If it's worthy to shout it, why isn't it enough to avoid me? Looking up and blinking rapidly to get rid of the tears, I clamped my mouth shut, since my voice is the least trustworthy thing about me when I cry.

"Hello, you there?" Eli asked, waving a hand frantically in front my ugly face. My head was already tilted downwards, but I couldn't take it. My veins felt like they were on fire. My blood was coursing through them as if it were poison. My body felt as if it were burning. If I were standing in an actual fire, I doubt I could tell the difference between it and this feeling. Ashamed, I quickly mumbled, "Sorry, but I have somewhere else to be." I just wanted to say sorry over and over and over and over and over again until my lungs pop. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. But he'll never know it. And it hurts.

Running out after shoving all my things in my back pack, I let the tears spill over once I reached the girls bathroom. Locking myself in a stall, I cried, and cried, and cried. Everything was wrong. Could he feel it too? What was I supposed to do with these feelings? Throw them away, store them away, ignore them? I couldn't have felt more pathetic or clueless than I did then. Holding my knees to my chest, I rocked back and forth while sitting on the toilet, choking myself from all the tears and heaves and sobs and coughs and wheezes I just couldn't contain.

"So, red or black?" asks a girl as she walks in. Damn it. Goddamn it! Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

_Just pretend you're not there,_ I chant in my head. Shouldn't be too hard, you're already invisible to the people you care about the most.

"Mmmm, go with… black. Isn't it his favorite color?" asks a raspy voice. A voice that could only belong to Katie Matlin.

"Yeah, I guess. I was just thinking about red lace since it's sexier." Suddenly, the weight plops down on my shoulders and I slouch horribly. It's Imogen. Who else? It is, after all my luck.

"Wow, you're really dedicated, aren't you? You're going to give Eli a real show tonight aren't you?" Katie squeaks, her hands fluttering up to arrange a scarf.

"Well yeah, I hope it'll be memorable. I'm probably the first piece of ass he's ever had in a long time. His last girlfriend wouldn't put out. How lame is that?" Imogen asked, scoffing and laughing at the same time. Pulling out teal eyeliner, she uncapped it and started to apply it to her dark eyelids.

"What a prude!" exclaimed Katie, staring at Imogen as if her glare will make her apply makeup faster.

"You bet!" exclaimed Imogen. They exited, and I couldn't help but consider dropping out of Degrassi and going to a new school. I hardly have any friends here, and I can't be in the hallways where I'm hated. And I can't look at Eli without picturing him and Imogen on his skull-covered bed without puking my guts out.

It kills me that Imogen will never love him like I did. Real. Real. Heartbreak. Fake. But it was real, I swear. She'll "love him" in the way that it's like, and lust and pride. Her heart will skip a beat, and her palms will be sweaty. She just wants him so that he can be hers, and it's a matter of property. And she wants to show him off and flaunt their relationship, and it's not fair. Not fair. Not fair, but life isn't; nothing ever is- and I should've learned it a long time ago, but I never will, I'll never learn, ever, never, ever.

000000000000

I should've seen it coming. He's happy. Glad. Content. Excited. And off the pills, I I I I I I prescribed. The look on his face, he might as well announce that he got laid over the PA system. Obvious. Whatever. I'm strong… well, actually weak, pathetic, etc. You know what? I'll settle for mediocre.

Another meeting. I want to bark. I want to ditch, I want to leave. I want to explode. I want to die. I want kiss him. I want to tell him I'm sorry. I want to choke on my apologies because I repeat them so many times. I want him. I want him back. I want him to want me. I want this to not be a dream. I want this to be real. My real.

"Everything okay?" he asks ever-so-innocently. Like he cares. For a second, I doubted my beliefs that I was alone. Then it all came back.

I must've looked so weird, staring at him. It took me an eternity to decide what to tell him. I settled with, "I'm fine, thanks."

"You sure?"

No. "Yes."

"Well, let's get started, Edwards." He leaned back in his chair and bit his bottom lip. I've fallen victim way to many times for me to do it again, although I'm tempted to look, and get mesmerized in his eyes one last time. No, Clare, don't torture yourself.

Curiosity redirected my train of thought. "Eli, are we…cool?"

Eli arched an eyebrow. I wanted to see if what he felt was real. What am I talking about? I say real too often. Imagine you got shot. You know you're going to die, because it went right through your heart. In the two seconds you're still alive, everything flashes. Regret. And if there's a heaven, you'll live there forever, or hell, and live a life or regret, and never have an escape. I want to know his answer. I don't want to regret it. Not asking, I mean.

"Yeah, why?" And he's lying. There's an unmistakable glint in his eyes, and he declared it. And there's no getting past it. And no. No. He's lying to me, to my face. Apparently, I'm nowhere close to being worthy of being told the truth. Direct hit. Yikes.

So I bolt. Bolt the heel out of there. And he may be following me, but I can't see anything. I'm running so fast and crying so hard everything I pass goes by in flying colors. No shapes, just blobs. Life is messy, and I finally see it. Actually see it.

Running. Running. Running. There. I hate being hated. I hate the word hate. I hate the emotion hate, but most of all, I hate myself. So I go home. Home. Home. Home. I thought it would be better here, but it's the same. But it's fucking the same here. The fucking same.

Suddenly, I'm so angry. I'm so frustrated. So sad. So stupid. Idiot. Ugly, Unworthy. So, so ,so ,so… Clare Edwards.

I'm done, the way everybody else was. I'm Clare Diana Edwards, and I'm done being me.

**Author's note: The ending is up to you. It's an open-ending. Like "I'm done" could mean different things to different people. It could mean: suicide or a makeover or anything, really.**


End file.
